


Clarity

by beejohnlocked



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/F, Femslash, Femslash February, First Time, Genderswap, Smut, Smut Sunday, Virgin!Sherlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-12
Updated: 2016-03-12
Packaged: 2018-05-26 07:35:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6229396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beejohnlocked/pseuds/beejohnlocked
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A little fic posted for Smut Sunday in celebration of Femslash February. Hope you like!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Clarity

**Author's Note:**

> I love the wonderful Smut Sunday crowd on Tumblr. You all inspire me!!

“Sit in my lap,” John says, her eyes gleaming, “and let me show you.”

Sherlock flushes deeply. She doesn’t know where to put her hands; she fidgets, shuffles her feet, stammers a mild protest “But…but John, how-?”

“Trust me, you lovely creature,” John’s dark blue eyes rake up and down Sherlock’s lithe frame. They are hungry. They are downright lascivious. Sherlock feels her nipples harden under that gaze.

This is not how this night was supposed to go. Sherlock never meant for John to find out that she’s a virgin. Nor meant for her to discover the fact that Sherlock has never had an orgasm. But between the adrenaline of solving a case, and six rounds of drinks with the yard, it had somehow slipped out.

“Never?” John had said, disbelieving but empathetic.

Sherlock had desperately wanted to melt through the ground. “…It’s not as though I haven’t…tried.” Sherlock tried her best not to flush. “I’m just always too…it’s always too much.”

“Sensitive,” John gave a nod before downing the remainder of her drink. “Nothing to be embarrassed about. A lot of girls get overwhelmed. You just need to know the right way to touch. John cleared her throat and her face grew knowing and almost needy in a way, her gaze darkening.

Sherlock’s face turned nearly purple, in spite of her efforts to the contrary. “Look…,” she said, not breaking eye contact with John regardless of her discomfort, “It seems there is an expectation…girls always come, correct?”

John wanted to slap and kiss Sherlock simultaneously. “No…Sherlock, they don’t. Not all women…and not all the time,” John’s face was part curious, part sympathetic, and completely aroused. Her cheeks were flushed and she was breathing hard, biting at her lip. “Feeling good is in your own head, but it’s also in the actions of someone trying to make you feel good,” John, bless her, stroked Sherlock’s arm gently. Sherlock still blanched a bit.

“What if they can’t do that?” Sherlock cleared her throat during the statement, not wanting to sound whiny and insecure, shuffling her feet slightly. She didn’t quite know what to do. “What if I am just unable to…to come?”

John licked her lips. “Would you allow me to try?”

The night ended quite quickly after that. They left. Got a cab. Exchanged heated looks. Arrived back at Baker Street and paid the driver.

And now, John. Crooking her fingers in a universal “come here” signal. Spreading her legs, her naked pussy exposed, glistening in the dim light of the fireplace.

John’s bravado is perhaps a bit surprising given the situation at hand, but Sherlock is thankful for the show of confidence, because she’s frankly a bit terrified. John’s large breasts are resting, unassuming, on her stomach. Her plump thighs are flexing and releasing, seeming to quiver with her desire…or this at least this is what Sherlock likes to think.

“Touch me,” Sherlock speaks hoarsely. She doesn’t quite know what else to say at this point, and she knows John’s want for her is as intense as her need for John.

“Sit in my lap,” John repeats, holding her hand out to Sherlock. Sherlock acquiesces, takes John’s hand, turns, and lowers herself almost gingerly into the vee between those legs. John’s cunt is so hot against her arse. Sherlock takes a deep breath so as not to hyperventilate.

“Ah, there we are,” Sherlock feels John’s soft breath against her neck as she begins pressing her lips to Sherlock’s skin.

Oh…Christ. This feels good. Warm arousal surges through Sherlock’s gut and her breathing grows heavy. John’s hands slide up her stomach and cup Sherlock’s small breasts. Her fingertips brush across each nipple, which harden to peaks instantly. The molten warmth in Sherlock’s belly suddenly turns sharp and hot. Her legs spread unbidden between John’s.

A rather loud cry escapes Sherlock, and she wants to be embarrassed for it, but John loves it, echoing her pleasured sound with an encouraging groan of her own.

“Yes, Sherlock,” John gasps. “That’s it, Beautiful.” John’s hoarse voice suddenly takes on a bit of a desperate tone. “Can I touch you? Will you let me make you come?” As John says this, she pinches both nipples. Not hard enough to hurt, but enough to have an effect. And does it ever! Sherlock gasps and writhes. Then John adds a soft “please” and Sherlock is nearly undone right there. Her back is arching, her hips are circling and giving needy little jerks into the air, helpless moans are escaping her. And John hasn’t even really touched her yet. She decides it’s high time to fix that.

John reaches between Sherlock’s thighs, barely brushing against her clit, but the response is immediate and intense. Sherlock grips John’s thigh tightly and actually mewls, her head falling back onto John’s shoulder, curls sweaty and in disarray. John dips a fingertip inside of her, only slightly breaching, and uses her thumb to give a hint of pressure to Sherlock’s clit.

“Does that feel good, love?” John sounds like a different person, hoarse and wanting and reverent and joyful all at once. Sherlock’s answering moan seems to satisfy her that yes, this is FUCKING amazing.

Sherlock’s pussy feels swollen and heavy. Everything is heightened, but it’s somehow not too much. In fact, it’s not quite enough. She needs more, her hips flexing, an instinctive need overtaking her. She’s not sure what she is looking for, but John seems to know.

John thrusts her finger in and out of Sherlock shallowly, and she is soaking wet. Her thumb has remained unmoving until now, but she knows Sherlock is close. The walls around her finger begin to flutter, Sherlock strains upward, seeking, her cries soft and taking on an edge of desperation, her back and neck arched.

“Come for me, Sherlock,” John mouths against her throat. She thrusts her finger a bit deeper, begins circling her thumb over that slick nub and flicks Sherlock’s nipple with the fingers of her other hand.

The clarity that strikes Sherlock is remarkable. She suddenly knows exactly what she needs and it is more of this. She needs more and she needs it harder and faster and now and she’s not sure if she’s voicing these thoughts out loud but that tipping point is no longer on the horizon and unattainable but happening now and “Oh my god, John, yes!” and she knows she’s screaming and thrashing and she may have just accidentally head butted John but the pleasure coursing through her cannot be contained. Her peak seems to last forever, seizing her body in its grasp until it finally begins to dissipate, giving her a heady feeling as she comes back down to earth, still in John’s lap and suddenly exhausted.

John’s arms remain around her, though she must’ve stopped the sexual touching at some point, now they simply circle her waist and she is pressing soft kisses to Sherlock’s shoulders.

“That was so beautiful, Sherlock. Lovely. God l…to give you that pleasure…to make you feel that way…” John continues murmuring praise and sweet nothings and Sherlock feels her eyes slip closed, her body’s needs flipping the switch from “seek pleasure” to “sleep” in spite of her knowing that she wants to make John feel good too. She does want to make John feel the way that John made her feel, she realizes. She wants to see her face while in orgasm, when her eyes cloud and her body jerks. But she’s so tired. This may be the most tired she’s ever felt.

“Shh, it’s okay, love, there’s plenty of time for that later,” John says, and Sherlock realizes she’s been speaking her thoughts out loud once again. John helps Sherlock to her feet and leads her to her bed, tucking her in and climbing in beside her, pulling her close and kissing her temple. “Sleep now,” John says, and Sherlock does.


End file.
